House on the Vistula (an Ed Sheeran story)

Chapter Three

If I knew one thing about Ed, it was that him and the sun weren't on good terms.
Like, ever.
Just like most people, he adored the hot weather, but it didn't seem to return his affection. Which of course fueled his on-and-off despise for it. You could say it was a love-hate relationship.
I suppose most of his godawful sunburns that summer were my fault, because I dragged him out on long trips on hot days. But then, he could have said no. He knew the consequences of my trips, yet he came each and every time.

And I was glad. Call me selfish, but I didn't like hiking or travelling by myself. There would be no one to mutter sarcastic remarks to, no one to giggle at people with, no one to take pictures with, no one to keep me company.

On our last night together in Tolo, we spent the typical half an hour rubbing suncream into ourselves, and blaming each other and the cruel, cruel world for those sunburns. By then, our shoulders had shed at least two layers of skin, despite having that whole day to recover, when I was too sickly to spend that horribly humid day at the beach.

Being the oldest at the camp, deemed the most responsible and trustworthy, I was given the privilege of staying in my hotel room because the heat was really making me sick. But for that, I had to call the supervisor every half an hour to tell her that I haven't been kidnapped, nor have I passed out.

You can imagine how displeased Mum was when she saw my phone bill.

But for God's sake, Mum, I was in Greece, using an English phone to call a Polish number every half an hour. Cut me some slack. It wasn't my fault. Gosh.

Unless you count the phone call with my best friend. But that's besides the point- it was a matter of life and death. In other words, confiding in her about Ed. She was informed about everything; you couldn't trust me not to share every juicy or gory detail with her. We share a brain and stuff. The typical Best Friends Starter Kit fiasco.

Despite the constant phone calls, that day was great. Ed came over, as we had planned, and I think that was when I realised he wasn't all Fluff, Cuddles and Cute Kittens.

But then, neither was I.

And sweet Jesus, was I horny that morning.

To this very day, I'm not entirely sure whether it was the acute heatstroke or whatnot that made me that horny. He had barely lifted his fist to knock on the door when I swung it open and dragged him in. I had barely closed the door when I pressed my lips to his.

Okay, I suppose I had been myself alright.

When I pulled away for air for a second, his hand had a strong grip of my hair and he was smirking devilishly at me. "Why, hello to you too."

But that was all he could say before we simultaneously pulled each other back in to that messy, sexually frustrated kiss. He did so by pulling my hair so that my back arched and he could lean over me, and I pulled him by his shirt. Whilst taking awkward steps backwards, I lost footing and him, with me. We fell on the edge of my room mate's bed, then on the floor. My back and hips hurt from the impact of the floor and Ed squishing me, but I paid no attention to that, nor did he after whispering a quick "are you ok" and getting a quick nod in response.

We rolled around that floor for quite some time, before my chin was sore and rough from his stubble, my lips swollen and our bodies soaked in sweat.

"I don't think I've gotten a welcome quite like that before, " He laughed between pants.

"Well, I suppose there's a first time for everything, " I told him, pulling my dress down where it had ridden up. Just to have it pulled back up. "Oi, cheeky, "